‘I’m so sorry, Pauline,’ I sobbed. ‘It’s my fault... I’m so, so sorry...’ I found myself praying. ‘Oh God, please look after Peter and Pauline. And help me... please, please keep Julia safe... please don’t let him get to Julia. Please God, I beg you keep Julia safe.’ I felt I was losing my mind.
Before long, the terrain got much rougher; it felt as though he was driving over deep ruts. I was being thrown all over the boot and kept slamming into Pauline’s body. The terror of my situation overwhelmed me. I was babbling and praying and sobbing.
‘Oh God, please help me! Please, please don’t let me die. I don’t want to die! Peter I need you to help me. I don’t want to die here. They’ll never find me. They’ll never know what’s happened to me. God, please don’t let him get to Julia. I love you Julia... stay safe...’ I felt a stinging warmth spreading between my legs and realised I’d wet myself. Suddenly, the car came to a halt. I felt the door slam, then the boot was opened, with a rush of freezing air.
‘Get out,’ he said. It was very dark and I could hardly make out his silhouette against the darkened sky. He grabbed one of my arms and roughly hauled me out, banging the boot lid behind him. ‘I’ll have to come back for her,’ he grumbled. Still painfully gripping my arm with one hand, he pushed me ahead of him, pressing the point of the knife against my back with the other.
‘Where are we going?’ I whispered, stumbling along in front of him.
‘I’ve told you, Carol. To your final resting place. It’s all ready for you. I think you’ll like it. In the daylight you’ll have lovely views across the moor. Might be a bit of a tight fit with two of you in it, but never mind.’ he laughed.
My eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark. By the faint light of a frost-rimmed sliver of moon, which, ironically looked like a hazy smile in the sky, I could make out that we were on a desolate heather-covered moor. There seemed to be patches of gorse and a copse of trees ahead. He pushed me along in front of him over the hard, uneven, ground, steering a path through the prickly heather, in the direction of the copse.
My foot slipped on an icy rut and, as I fell, he momentarily loosened his grip on my arm. Scrambling quickly to my feet, I started running as fast as I could, slipping and sliding on the icy ground.
‘You fucking bitch,’ he yelled, lunging after me ‘You won’t get away.’
I kept on running, slipping, nearly falling, my skirt and legs catching on the gorse, my breath coming out in big gasps as the freezing air hit the back of my throat. I didn’t waste time turning round, but I could hear him closing on me. I kept on going, frantically trying to get away, trying to outrun him. Then, a painful thud in my lower back jerked my body forward and sent me sprawling to the hard ground, knocking my breath out of me. He straddled me as I lay there face down, in great pain, gasping for breath.
‘Nice try, babe. Futile, but a nice try.’ He was laughing.
I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck, as I struggled for breath. Bizarrely, he began to nibble my ear, and whisper endearments, He told me I was beautiful, that he loved my body. Then he described in salacious detail what he was going to do to me. He shoved his hand up my skirt, then suddenly recoiled in disgust.
‘Ugh. You’ve wet yourself, you filthy bitch. You stink.’
I was still face-down on the ground, my arms spread-eagled. With my hands I was feeling around on the hard ground, searching for anything that I could use as a weapon. Just as he lifted himself off me, sniffing in disgust, my right hand closed around what felt like a small stick. Grasping it, I twisted my body around and struck out as forcefully as I could towards his face, taking him by surprise. I felt the stick connect with something and heard the knife clatter to the hard ground as he put both hands to his face, screaming in pain.
‘My eye! My fucking eye!’ He was on his knees, and eased off me a bit as he clutched his face with both hands.
I didn’t hesitate. I pulled myself out from beneath him and scrambled to my feet, thanking God I was wearing flat boots. I started to run again. The trees weren’t far away now and I headed for them as fast as I could. I kept slipping on the frozen ground and tripping over spiky gorse and heather, expecting to feel his hand grabbing me any second. I didn’t dare look back. I could feel the leather of my ankle boots and my skirt being ripped on the shrubbery as I ran. Suddenly, I was in the woods and trying to make my way in complete darkness. I bumped into trees and stumbled over roots, but I just kept going and eventually I could see a faint glimmer of light ahead. Before long, I broke out on the other side of the copse. My breath was coming in loud rasps, my chest burning and painful, and I had to stop, doubled over, until I was able to breathe a bit easier.
Before leaving the cover of the trees, I stood and listened, straining my ears for the slightest sound. I couldn’t hear anything, but didn’t dare believe that he wasn’t following me. I could see another small wood in the distance, and I pressed on towards it, my breath coming in white clouds in the freezing air. When I reached the trees, I ventured a look behind me, expecting to see him coming over the moor, but I couldn’t make anything out. I didn’t dare relax and I turned and pressed on, once again negotiating a dense wood before reaching open moorland again.
I stumbled on for hours and hours, too scared to stop. My legs and hands were shredded with the gorse and heather; my knees were painful from falling onto the unforgiving ground and my throat was raw from the freezing air, but still I pressed on. Every time I thought of his face, the adrenalin kicked in again and gave me the strength to keep going. I had no idea what direction I was going in, and just hoped I wasn’t going round in circles. Eventually the first signs of dawn appeared; an ethereal sky with pink and purple streaks showing through a misty haze. In the growing light I could see some kind of building not far ahead. As I got closer, I could see that it was a barn. By now, utterly exhausted, I staggered towards its high open door and stumbled inside. In the semi-dark, I found a large pile of straw and burrowed into it, trying to hide completely from sight.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
I awoke from blackness to a gentle voice asking if I was alright. I sat up with a scream of fright to see a man of about sixty, leaning over me. He’d been shaking my arm to wake me and jumped back himself at my reaction.
‘Don’t be frightened, love. I’m not goin’ to ‘urt you. This is my barn. I’m a farmer. I live nearby. I just found you ‘ere when I came to pick up some equipment. I spotted you asleep in the straw. I’ve got my jeep outside. You look as if you could do with some ‘elp.’ He had a kindly face and was looking at me anxiously.
I dragged myself out of my bed of straw and tried to stand up, but staggered and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught me. My legs were stiff and sore and the farmer held on to my arm to steady me. I looked down at my shredded skirt, bloodied legs and filthy boots, and realised what a sorry sight I must look.
‘Thank God you’re here... he’s coming after me. A man. He’s going to kill me! He’s going to get my daughter.’
‘Come on lass, you’re in safe ‘ands now. Nobody’s goin to ‘urt you. Let’s get you back to the ‘ouse. My wife’ll make you a lovely cuppa and get you cleaned up.’
‘We need to phone the police! Have you got a mobile?’ I found myself clutching his arm, frantically.
‘Nay lass, but there’s a phone at the ‘ouse. You can use that.’
I could have cried at his kindness, as he helped me out of the barn, to his waiting jeep. I was conscious of a sour smell and realised it was coming from me and remembered I’d wet myself. I kept looking around, anxiously, expecting Dan Smithson to materialise and finish what he’d started.
‘Where are we?’ I asked, once we were moving. I had no idea which direction the car had taken when we left South Shields; we could be almost anywhere.
‘We’re on North Yorkshire Moors, lass. The most remote part. Nearest village is ten miles away. Where’ve you come from, love? Nay, you can tell me later
, let’s get you ‘ome to the wife first. My name’s Joe, by the way.’
‘Mine’s Carol, Carol Barrington.’
He drove carefully and slowly over the fields. I think he was trying to spare me as much shaking about as he could. The sky was light now and the sun was a pale yellow in the sky. I wondered how long I’d slept and Joe told me it was nearly noon. I kept looking round, scanning the horizon, expecting to see a figure still coming after me.
Eventually, we drove into a cobbled yard that fronted an old stone farmhouse. With wood-smoke spiralling from its chimney, it looked incongruously peaceful. Strutting hens scattered out of our way, flapping and squawking noisily.
Joe ushered me into the porch and then into a warm, low-ceilinged kitchen, calling out to his wife as he sat me down in an overstuffed armchair beside a flickering log-burning stove. I was desperate to speak to Gayle, and he quickly handed me the phone. I’d memorised her direct line number, and soon she answered.
‘Gayle. It’s me... Carol.’
‘Carol? Carol? What a relief!’ Gayle almost sounded emotional. ‘Where are you?’
‘It was Dan Smithson, Gayle... in Barbados. Pauline’s dead... he... he killed her. He’s going to go after Julia... he knows where she lives. You’ve got to protect her!’ I could feel panic rising in my throat and knew I was gabbling.
‘Slow down Carol,’ Gayle spoke calmly. ‘Julia’s up here with Fiona. We had her collected from university when we realised you’d been abducted. She’s safe; there’s an officer with them, but in the light of what you’ve just told me, I’ll strengthen the protection. I’ll do it straight away. Just give me a second...’ I could hear her giving instructions in the background. ‘Right, it’s organised, Carol, another officer will be there with them very soon. Don’t worry, we’ll keep Julia safe. He won’t get to her. I promise you. Now tell me where you are,’
The relief of knowing Julia was safe was too much for me. I broke down and couldn’t stop sobbing. Joe took the phone from me and I heard him giving the address. They spoke for some time and I heard him explaining how he’d found me in the barn and brought me to the farmhouse. Then he handed the phone back to me again.
‘She’d like to have another word, lass. Can you manage to speak now?’
I nodded, wiping my face with the hanky Joe had passed to me.
Gayle’s voice sounded sympathetic, yet firm. ‘Carol, I’m going to be on my way to see you very soon. I’ll pick up Julia and Fiona, on the way. We should be with you in about two hours or so and you can give me the full story then. In the meanwhile, one of my colleagues has just spoken to the North Yorkshire police and they’re sending two officers over to stay with you. They should be there within fifteen minutes. They’ll arrange to have a doctor take a look at you. Now, can you tell me anything about the car he’s using?’
I could hardly bear to think about the car. ‘It’s... light coloured. Big. I think it’s a Peugeot... he’s got Pauline’s body in the boot...’ My voice broke; I was choking back sobs. ‘Poor Pauline, she didn’t deserve that... he hit her with an iron bar...’ the sobs came then, and I couldn’t go on. Joe took the phone from me again and went on talking with Gayle
A small, pretty lady with a mass of dark, curly hair came into the room while I was on the phone and she rushed over to me, dark eyes registering shock at my appearance.
‘Oh you poor, poor thing,’ she whispered, stroking my head whilst I sobbed. She stayed with me until the wracking sobs had subsided somewhat, then told me to lie still, she wouldn’t be a moment. She turned and hurried from the room.
A few minutes later, she returned, her arms full of blankets and pillows, and I watched through the doorway as she proceeded to make up a bed on the settee in the next room. I glimpsed low beams and the flicker of flames from an open fire.
‘I want you to lie here quietly, love,’ she said, gently taking my arm and leading me through to the makeshift bed. She helped me to lie down and, tucking a blanket around me, instructed Joe to put the kettle on. Patting my shoulder, she told me, ‘Now you just rest there, and I’ll get you a nice cup of tea... I’m Mary, by the way.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered, my head sinking on to soft, plump pillows.
Returning with the tea, which she placed on a side table near me, she sat on a stool and looked at me, with concern. ‘Listen, love, Joe’s told me as much as he knows about what’s happened, so I’m not going to ask you any questions. You’ll have enough from the police, once they get here. For now, I just want to you rest. Much as I’d like to, I don’t think I should try to clean you up. It might be important that the police see you as you are.’
I realised she wanted to be sure we didn’t destroy any potential evidence, but I was longing to submerge myself in a hot bath and scrub all the filth off me.
When the police arrived a few minutes later, I was so relieved to see the two officers that I burst into tears again. I realised I’d still been terrified in case Smithson had seen me with the farmer and might come bursting into the farmhouse at any minute.
‘It’s all right lass, you’re perfectly safe now,’ the male policeman quickly reassured me, in a booming baritone. He was huge, tall as well as broad, his bulk seeming to fill the room. His companion was young and pretty, smart in her black uniform. ‘I’m DI Bill Davis, and this is PC Rachel Best. We’ve heard about you Carol, the whole country’s been looking for you.’
Rachel sat down on the stool next to me. ‘There’s a doctor on her way, Carol. How are you feeling?’ she asked gently.
‘He killed my friend.’ I sobbed. ‘Pauline... I saw her blood... he put her in the boot of the car... with me... I knew she was dead...’ I couldn’t go on and Rachel sat, patiently, waiting.
‘Where is she now, her body?’ she asked, in a gentle voice.
‘He left her in the boot of the car... when he took me over the moor... I... I don’t know what he’s done with her...’
Taking out her notebook and pen, she asked me to tell her everything. ‘Take your time and tell me exactly what’s happened. Can you do that?’
Haltingly, in fits and starts, commencing with the phone call from Dan Smithson, I went through my ordeal.
‘So, you last saw this Dan Smithson on the moor, last night. Do you know what time that would have been?’
‘No... it wasn’t long after it got dark.’
‘Have you any idea if he was badly injured after you struck out at him?’
‘I don’t know... the stick must have gone into his eye...he screamed ‘my eye’. That’s how I got away... but I don’t know how bad it was.’
She went on to ask for a description of Dan Smithson; what he was wearing, height, build, etc. I described him as best I could, mentioning his newly-cropped and lightened hair.
‘Were you raped, Carol?’ she asked gently, speaking quietly so only we two could hear. ‘The doctor will need to know.’
I nodded and lowered my head. The tears came again.
‘I’m so sorry. Why don’t you just rest for now, until the doctor gets here? No more questions for the moment.’ She patted my shoulder.
In the warmth of the room, I felt myself getting drowsy and must have drifted off to sleep. The next thing I knew, I was being woken by Mary lightly squeezing my shoulder, telling me the doctor was here. After asking everyone to leave the room the doctor turned to me.
‘I’m Laura Quayle. How are you feeling, Carol? Without waiting for an answer, she continued, ‘I want to assess your condition, check how serious the damage is. I need to see if any urgent treatment is required, Ok?’
‘Yes.’ I whispered.
‘I understand you’ve been attacked. The PC has told me that you’ve been raped as well as beaten,’ she said quietly, taking my hand., examining the scratches and scrapes. ‘Can you tell me how he beat you? Did he use a weapon?
‘No... he punched me. Hard. In my face and stomach. And he bit me... all over. I was tied up...�
�� I started to cry as shame washed over me.
‘You’ll need a more in-depth examination later. We’ll take swabs and samples, to preserve any evidence, check for any STD or pregnancy. The usual procedure when someone’s been raped. For now, I just want to check the extent of your injuries.’ She carefully examined the bruises and bites, scrapes and scratches. There was hardly a part of my body that wasn’t hurting.
‘STD?’ I echoed, as the significance of her words hit me.
‘It’s routine, in a rape situation. We need to check to make sure nothing’s been transmitted.’
‘Ugh, I just want to wash him off me... I feel so dirty... filthy.’
‘I’m sorry you can’t have a bath just yet, but you’ll be able to before too much longer. Now, can you tell me where you hurt the most?’
‘It’s hard to say... all over... I’m very sore down below.’ I dropped my head, shame washing over me again. Hot tears scalded my face.
‘Carol, you’ve done nothing wrong. None of this is your fault. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. The only person to blame for all of this is your attacker. Not you; not in any way whatsoever. Do you understand?’ she spoke firmly.
I nodded, unable to speak.
When the humiliating examination was over, she removed her surgical gloves. ‘There’s extensive bruising and some tearing. We’ll need to carry out an internal examination once we get you to hospital to rule out any internal injury. If necessary, that can be done under anaesthetic, so don’t worry,’ she tried to reassure me. ‘Now, let’s get the worst of these other injuries cleaned up.’ I lay mute and hurting as she gently swabbed and disinfected the gashes and cuts on my legs and the bites on my body.
‘Your legs and hands are badly torn. Gorse is most unforgiving... there, finished for now,’ she said, straightening up. ‘I want you to rest for a while. I’ll come to see you again when you come into the hospital, once the police have spoken with you... And, one further thing,’ she said in a stern voice. ‘Look at me. Get rid of those feelings of guilt. You’ve survived a horrific attack; you have every reason to feel proud of yourself. Remember that,’ she smiled and patted my arm.
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